Spanish Immersion—El Hospital Hermano Pedro

We finally decided to go to the hospital at about 3 p.m., right after Annie (pale as a ghost) nearly passed out on the concrete floor of our hostel. She yelled upstairs for me and when I rushed down, I found her sprawled on the floor, unable to make it to the bathroom a few steps away. She almost fainted.

We had both been sick at this point for about eight hours. Whatever we ate at Cafe Escudilla (recommended by Lonely Planet) gave us “food intoxication,” according to the doctor at the first clinic we visited (2:00). He examined us and prescribed antibiotics and immodium to begin immediately. I improved, Annie got worse. And worse. And worse. At one point, her arms and legs went numb-- pins and needles. So I hauled her into a tuk tuk and we headed for el Hospital Privado Hermano Pedro.

We soon found ourselves in room number four conversing only in Spanish with the attending nurses. They were all very kind and patient. I was still very weak and curled up in the chair while every nurse struggled to find a vein for Annie's IV (her first ever!) Even her veins are small. She would receive four bottles of fluids and two bags of antibiotics throughout the night while I slept curled up at the foot of the bed. The good news is we had cable TV—even HBO, which we've never had. Over the course of our illness, we watched Along Came Polly, Narnia, Miss Congeniality (missed the ending: tuk tuk to the hospital), Oceans 13, Wedding Crashers, Frida, Mona Lisa Smile and some crazy movie about a fake therapist played by Ashley Judd. More TV than we've watched all summer.

Well, our first test communicating in Spanish, and we think it went pretty well judging by our improved health. We're not 100% yet, but our dinner of rice and gatorade and a good night's rest should do the trick.